The Scars of the Father
by Koala
Summary: Squall contemplates his life, his marriage, and wonders about what he could do, and how he will go on.
1. Dawn

The sun had not yet risen, and the deep dark of predawn settled over him like a still blanket. He was accustomed to waking before the sun – at school it was a necessity to get to class early, in the barracks a mere time of solitude before the bustle of camp. At home, it was an eerie point of the day. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and he blinked, calmingly gazing over at the woman that slept on beside him.

Her breath was soft and gentle, regular. Her skin, normally fine and pale, shone a sickly green in the light of the alarm clock. She curled away from him and towards her pillow, her dark hair falling over her face.

He watched her sleep for some time, thinking, before he rose from his bed and slipped into a pair of house slippers that she kept in an immaculate shelf. The house was far from sterile – she was a storm, mess followed in her wake. The shelf was not kept clean by her; it was far from her nature to clean anything.

Squall stepped onto the hardwood deck that overlooked the pier. His gaze turned to where the Garden floated gently, casually close by, and he sighed softly.

It had been five years since the Sorceresses, five years since he had met Rinoa. After the situation, he had married her; it was expected, after all, and taken up residence near the Garden.

After the Sorceresses a string of wars followed – the Galbadian War, the War of the Singed Earth, the Balamb War. The most shocking war was the most recent, prompted by the Ifrit Massacre in Trabia. Almost nine hundred civilians died in an attack staged by the government; one hundred and eleven of those Seed scouts, all under twelve years of age. The war ended when the government claimed a leftist shock group misunderstood directives and advanced, but that was after almost a year and a half of fighting.

Since the end of the war Squall had returned home to Rinoa, where she waited, her exuberant nature careless of his quiet discomfort. His promotion was imminent, and she could sense it, almost. He didn't like her constant goading, her happiness. It was as if, for her, the war was only a legend of far away.

Somewhere out in the streets of Balamb, a dog barked, and Squall rubbed his scar unconsciously as below him in the backyard Angelo responded angrily. He had always disliked that dog – it was loud, obnoxious and badly trained, but he couldn't convince Rinoa to get rid of the damned thing. It was a topic that always led to a fight – Rinoa would cry, and yell, and pout, and Squall would sit silently and brood, finally letting a brisk "Whatever" escape. At that point Rinoa would smile and wrap her arms around Squall's neck as though the word meant he would let the dog stay, and kiss him on the face.

It had been five years of arguments, of Rinoa and her way, of mess and disorder and chaos. She was sunny and happy all the time, oblivious to reality as war unfolded around her. In the first few years it had been almost a relief to come home to her – to a new project, to a new celebration or party. It was as though in his home the world around them ceased to matter, the wars ceased to exist.

However, things had become different lately, and it didn't escape Squall's vigilance. He sat on the deck as the sun crested over the horizon behind him (Rinoa hated morning sun, dismissing it as too weak, and insisted of a view of the sunset) and colored the sky a delicate shade of dusky blue. He stood as he saw the fisher boats pulling back in with the morning catch and padded into the house, stripping of his boxers and slippers and stepping into the shower. His musculature was a bit more developed, his shoulders a tad bit broader than before. He rubbed his shoulder and the thick scar tissue that was there from where someone had fired a bullet into his back, and stretched leisurely under the frigid water.

It had been early in their marriage that Rinoa had tried to step into the shower with Squall, but it had stopped quickly when she discovered that he preferred freezing water and refused to turn up the heat. He told her that at the Garden priority showers were determined by age and rank, and that he had grown up with freezing water. He preferred it to the hot showers that Rinoa luxuriated in, and she said she understood, but her smile had faltered. It had not been the first or last time that had happened.

By the time that Squall finished his morning shower, Rinoa was half awake, shuffling slowly to the kitchen. Squall knew how she hated getting up early, and he spoke softly to her, "Go back to bed, Rinoa."

"No, no…I'm gonna make omelets. You want an omelet? I'll make you a mushroom-onion one, if you want. Or maybe anchovy, I got some really good anchovies at the market yesterday…" Her voice trailed off into a yawn as she stepped towards him and kissed him on the cheek. She heard Angelo barking outside and whining and she commented, "Be a doll, let Angelo in…you know how he hates waiting…" she continued to shuffle down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

Squall frowned and repeated, "Go back to bed, Rinoa. I was going out to have breakfast anyhow."

The words clung in the air as Rinoa stopped in midstep. "What? Why? I'm a perfectly good cook, Squall. I make good omelets. You used to love them, remember?" She turned to look up at him, her mussed hair falling over her face.

Squall shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He sensed that if he didn't let her have her way, she would burst into tears and lock herself in her study. While he had a breakfast meeting he wasn't willing to endure the emotional agony of trying to explain to Rinoa that he really didn't feel like eating an omelet, or in fact, letting the dog in. He sighed and dried his hair, wandering off as he said softly, "Whatever."

Rinoa continued her downward march and as Squall got dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt he heard the commotion of pots and pans shifting downstairs. At some point she must have cut herself because there was a yelp of pain and several expletives. Squall hurried down the stairs in time to find Rinoa nursing a sliced finger under running water. She looked up at him and asked again, "Will you please let Angelo in, before he has a fit out there?"

Squall sighed and let the dog in; the animal cavorted at Squall's feet for a while before running to Rinoa and barking like mad. She only laughed and applied a band-aid to her finger, then plating up Squall's omelet and serving it. "Ta-da! See, it'll taste good. Mushroom, onion and anchovy, practically a pizza omelet!"

Squall poked at the omelet and wondered what had happened to his life for it to spiral down from First-Class Seed to Eater of Rinoa's Omelets and Letter in of the Barking Mop Masquerading as a Dog.


	2. Morning

Squall left the house after breakfast, assuring Rinoa that he would return in time for lunch. The streets of Balamb were still hazy with mist as he made his way to the Hotel, most of the vendors opening up shop slowly and quietly. Squall enjoyed the early morning traffic – light and casual, mostly just people getting ready for work. The Hotel staff was alert and up, ushering the young man to the restaurant. Squall entered the small dining room and spotted the people he was supposed to meet; they waved at him and indicated for him to sit down.

Zell grinned as Squall sat down and asked, "Everything good? You're late, that's not usual."

"Rinoa." Squall explained briskly, settling next to Irvine. "Where's Selphie?" He asked, noticing that the perky blonde wasn't around.

Irvine winced and said, "She heard I was coming and canceled. Doesn't want to see me, you know. Honestly, we broke up four years ago, you'd think I broke her heart or something." Irvine took a sip of his coffee and continued, "Anyhow, it's only going to be us guys today, because Quistis had to deal with a bunch of ten year old candidates."

"Oh." Squall accepted a cup of coffee from the waitress and shrugged. "Whatever."

Zell began talking, "Well, Laguna is all for it, right? A Garden in Eshtar would be perfect, especially with the hero of the Balamb War as headmaster." He sidled a glance up at Squall.

Squall shook his head, "Laguna told me that while he's willing to place a Garden in Eshtar, he can't afford to fund it, so we're going to have to find the funding elsewhere. With Balamb scrapped for funds after the war, we're going to have to look hard." He took a drink of his coffee.

Irvine ran a hand nervously over his braid and suggested, "Well, we could always petition Cid Kramer…after all, you two are technically his Seed, so maybe you can get some money that way."

"Cid's not gonna fund another Garden, Irvine, that's competition." Zell piped up, looking up from his eggs and waffles. "Would the Headmaster of Galbadia Garden fund another Garden? I don't think so!"

"Cid's a lot more reasonable than the Headmaster over at Galbadia." Irvine retorted, and shrugged. "We could try getting a loan from the Bank of Trabia. They're still pretty economically stable, don't you think?"

"Maybe if we got several loans, Irvine." Squall drank his coffee.

"Oh!" Zell suddenly looked up and burbled, "Why don't you ask Rinoa's dad? He's got money, yeah? And she's your wife, you know, so it's not like…" his voice trailed off as Squall shook his head. "Why not?"

"I don't want Rinoa involved in this. If we borrow money from her father, she's going to want to paint, and decorate, and choose candidates, and just…be involved." There was silence as Irvine and Zell looked at each other.

Squall finally set his cup of coffee down and asked, "Well, any other ideas? Preferably none that involve a bake sale."

Irvine shrugged, "I'll have to think about it. I'm all set for whatever, but I do have to be back in Galbadia for dinner tomorrow."

"Hot date?" Zell asked honestly.

"Promotion dinner." Irvine responded. "I wish I had a date, but alas…" He stood and stretched his lean muscles. "Well, it's alright, I suppose. Hey, weren't you supposed to be there, Squall? I thought you were being recognized for you prowess, or something."

Squall's face didn't change as he replied, "Can't go. I'm having Quistis go in my stead."

Irvine nodded, rubbing his left arm hard. Squall knew that it was where a gunblade had hit him and that the scar there bothered him. The taller man drawled, "I'm going to go back to bed, you guys want to meet at the Garden for dinner? Maybe we can cosset Selphie to talk to me."

"Lets just hope it doesn't end in her hitting you with her handbag like last time!" Zell grinned, and Irvine laughed. He waved and left Squall and Zell alone at the table.

Zell looked around to see if anyone was listening and asked, "Are you fighting with Rinoa?"

Squall didn't think when he replied, "No." He paused and sipped a bit of coffee and shrugged. "We don't fight."

"You don't fight cause you don't disagree or don't fight cause you don't have the energy to fight?" Zell asked, his blue eyes fixed on Squall.

Squall looked up at the other warrior and actually took him in. Since their Garden days, Zell hadn't grown much, staying on the short side. He had finally grown out his ridiculous hairstyle, and kept it neatly tucked in a tail at the base of his neck. However, his body had lost all of the remaining childishness, giving Zell a more intense gaze. He had tattooed the other side of his face to match, framing his eyes nicely.

Squall shook his head. "It doesn't matter. The point is we don't fight."

Zell sighed and said, "It's really pointless to be married to someone you don't want to deal with, Squall." There was silence again, and finally Zell stood up. "Look, you know you can always talk to me about it."

Squall nodded and waited for Zell to leave. After the shorter man had gone home, Squall sat back and thought about what Zell had said. Zell was single, and so was Irvine. Quistis had been engaged for a number of years but recently she called it off, saying that it wouldn't work out. Selphie was a serial monogamist, convinced that every relationship she got into would be "the relationship." Seifer had dated Fuujin for a couple of years, but it had fizzled out to nothing when she couldn't keep up with his passion.

Seifer had always been Squall's rival, but in the Balamb War Seifer had been called into service, even though he wasn't a Seed and technically his service was not only illegal but highly unusual, considering his history. He had been handed over to Squall to supervise, and despite Squall's initial hesitance to allow it and his certainty that Seifer would be impossible to deal with, it had not been so bad. Seifer took orders, followed them and never complained, not even when they were slogging through mud and sleet.

When they had returned from the war, Squall recommended Seifer for immediate First-Class Seed title and honors. There had been debate, and it was still raging – if the volatile young man could be managed and if he could be trusted not to betray Balamb again.

Seifer had attained the First-Class status, and though while they were not friends, Squall and Seifer from then on kept a mutual quiet truce. It had been one night in Trabia that Seifer had confessed his compliance. "The way I see it, Squall," he said, knocking back beers, "This is my last chance at something. I just don't want to fuck it up again, even if it does mean I have to serve under a bastard like you."

Squall hadn't replied with anything more than a grunt, and Seifer had laughed. "From the time we were four, you've never changed. Still a quiet son-of-a-bitch."

It was a comment tha Squall had never forgotten, if only because he realize then how true it was.


	3. Noon

Chapter 3, holy god I'm actually WORKING ON A FIC. OO...

CC please!

Squall returned home to find Rinoa standing on the roof, Angelo barking loudly and annoyingly at her. She was standing at the very top in a pair of jeans and an old, oversized black shirt that belonged to Squall. She had in her hand some kind of old battered bronze thing in the shape of a chocobo and was trying to affix it to the chimney. He stared up at her and finally called, "Rinoa, get down before you kill yourself!"

Angelo sniffed and barked at him in greeting, and Squall glared at the dog, who merely wagged his tail affably and barked again, zooming off to the ladder at the side of the house. He barked at the ladder and Squall followed him, waiting patiently at the bottom.

Rinoa looked down at him and called, "Wait, I'm putting up this chocobo weathervane; isn't it adorable?"

Squall looked long and hard at the battered bronze chocobo but found nothing remotely adorable about it – in fact, it looked old and like it could kill someone with the edges. "Rinoa," he said patiently, "please get down."

"Oh, don't be such a worrywart, Squall!" Rinoa finished putting the chocobo in place, the crowning victory of the house, and balanced her way back to the ladder. Squall watched as she climbed down and said, "See? I'm fine." She went up on her tiptoes and kissed the side of Squall's lips; Squall didn't react. She looked shocked and asked, "Are you mad at me?"

"No." He said briskly, going back into the house. Angelo barked as his mistress followed hurriedly.

Rinoa grabbed Squall's arm and pleaded, "You are mad at me! Is it about the weathervane? I can take it down, if you want!"

"I'm not mad at you, Rinoa. I told you that already." Squall felt a headache come up, and Angelo started barking like mad. "Will you shut that damn dog up already?"

Rinoa balked and cried, "Don't call him that! He loves you, same as me!"

"Frankly Rinoa, that's disturbing. I have a headache, and I'm due for a meeting with Cid in a couple of minutes, so I just came home to grab my uniform and change, and I'll see you at dinner." Squall managed to squeeze all the words out of his mouth, then waiting for the protest.

Oddly enough, there was none. He looked back at Rinoa, and she looked up at him nearly crying. "Do you hat me that much?"

There was silence as Angelo suddenly stopped barking entirely and cocked his doggy head to look at Squall. Squall sighed softly and pulled Rinoa into his arms. "I don't hate you. I have things that I am responsible for, you know that. I told you that I needed to see Headmaster Kramer today. I'll see you at dinner…" he trailed off, "How about you make that roast chocobo in Galbadian pear sauce?"

Rinoa instantly brightened and nodded. "All right! I'll take Angelo with me to the beach, too, we need to collect shells for those shell balls I was making!"

Squall didn't look back as he headed for the room. He had learned it was best not to ask. Rinoa bounced after him as he stripped, and she giggled, "You're still damn hot, Squall."

The silence was deafening. He turned and blinked at her – she had shed the shirt and was standing before him in her bra. She bit her bottom lip and turned her knee in. "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

Squall blinked complacently. He had never called her beautiful in his life; it was awkward to think that way. Even when they had made love, he had never thought of her beauty.

She plastered herself on his body and rubbed against him. "Rinoa." He said calmly, pushing her away gently, "I have to go."

She frowned and repeated, "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

"I have to go." Squall effectively stripped and dressed again, fixing his epaulets quickly and stepping into his shined boots. He strapped all the buckles in place and began to leave. "I'll see you tonight."

Rinoa didn't respond.

Cid Kramer was wearing a typical sweater-vest outfit when he let Squall into his office. "Hello, Headmaster Kramer."

"Hello Squall. How are you? You seem to be doing very well." Kramer ushered Squall in, telling him, "Sit, sit, let's not stand on ceremony. I hear you're trying to open a Garden in Eshtar."

"Yes sir." Squall looked at the chair and waited for Cid to sit down before easing stiffly into the chair. "A few of us from the Sorceress incident were thinking about it, thought it might be a good idea."

"Well, I agree. The Garden here has too many youth, and our focus is turning slowly from land-based operations to water-based operations. It might help secure a land-based army. However…" Kramer took a sip of some hot liquid at his desk, "I can't very well help you out. You were very good trainees, but politics won't allow me to proceed any further than blessing and advice."

Squall nodded. "I didn't expect you to, sir. I'm just setting out to outline our initiative."

"You speak a soldier no matter how much I insist not to stand on ceremony. Very well." Kramer stood. "You may think of asking young Mr. Almasy to assist you. After all, you were the one who had him promoted; he respects you now. To think you were such rivals in school."

Squall nodded and Cid dismissed him with a salute. The young man rode the elevators down and when it opened, a barrage of ten year old trainees jumped in, filling the cramped space. Quistis' highly military voice filled the elevator, "Cadets! Salute!"

All of them saluted, albeit clumsily, and Squall saluted back. Quistis stepped into the elevator last, arranging small bodies around her. "Ugh, stop squirming, Anson, you're squishing into me…" She finally got them all arranged and turned, flipping one errant strand of wheat gold hair back into place. "Hello, Squall."

"Hi." He replied, staring. All the cadets were staring up at him.

One of them whispered quietly to the other, "My dad says he's the best fighter in Balamb."

The other one's eyes widened and he nearly went slack-jawed. The corner of Quistis' lips turned slightly upward in a suppressed smile and she held back a laugh. The elevator stopped on the ground level and let everyone out, the cadets crying out to friends in the hall. Quistis stepped back into military mode, getting them into two lines of nine and barking orders before slipping quietly to Squall, "I'll see you later, right? I hear Irvine's going to try and get conversational with Selphie, should be a blast."

Squall nodded. "I'll be there."


End file.
